A writing collaboration between Yuukon and myself. Italics are me.

You were the one who created teeth in my mind so I could chew my thoughts and swallow them without feeling the pain of the sharp edges of my memories that I still can’t seem to forget. You drank my blood from one of your precious wine-glasses to expunge all of my feelings. All of them were gone the moment you swallowed the last drop of crimson-coloured blood. You ate my heart and took my sun and moon, my clouds and my rain. The flame burning so passionately within me extinguished the moment you took it all and even though I could see the stars fall down I couldn’t wish for life anymore because I had died long before you took my heart.

In the silence of this eternity, banished away unwillingly, I sought presence and found only me. Decrypted the words, never thought of immortality. Perhaps the way it oozed down my throat reminded me that the most petty of poisons were cured with a stone; I pulled it from my gut, terrified, tranquilized, and I never stopped to wonder what you would think of me now. What would you think of me now?

The flowers in your cherished crystal vase died as soon as I entered the room. You blamed me, but I knew it was you. Your soul was so rotten no living being could remain alive near you. I never knew if there was, but if there was a God even he’d run away from you as fast as he could because I knew. I knew you were worse than the Devil himself, and the only thing you ever successfully did was create and rule your own version of hell.

Cherished, cherished and forgotten, tossed aside into the hearth like scraps of kindling. I whispered that you would use gasoline one day, but dull words fall on deaf ears, and you were made to be razed, not phased. I never was a believer, never couldn’t see past the stained glass windows and the man-made books, but if you wrote the scripture, I knew there would be followers. Did that make me Judas?

You owned me, you said that so many times. I was yours, but you never told me you can’t own someone else’s soul and body, though you did own my thoughts and they never got a second of redemption. You’ve lingered in my mind for a lifetime, controlling me, but you rejected my thoughts every time I approached you. You’d call everything you owned precious, but that never included me.

Until I understood what precious really meant. Time was, breathing was. I hearkened to my memories, before I knew your face and your words. I lay as a broken doll, dreaming of the dance I used to play out, but who said I could not rise once more? Gold has many uses, if only you reforge it.

I want to feel how it feels to be loved.